Passionate Abandon
by KitKatt0430
Summary: In which it is decided that 'kissing with passionate abandon' and laughter are not good ideas when one has bruised (or cracked) ribs. (Or Len and Barry being dorks in love, injured ribs edition.)


Summary: In which it is decided that 'kissing with passionate abandon' and laughter are not good ideas when one has bruised (or cracked) ribs. (Or Len and Barry being dorks in love, injured ribs edition.)

Notes: For prompt B4 on my Coldflash Bingo card - Tending Wounds

Also this makes for a bingo on row 4! (Can I get a wahoo? ;) )

_**Passionate Abandon**_

"So I think this is where, traditionally, we're supposed to pause and stare soulfully into each other's eyes before kissing with passionate abandon."

Len narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. "Have you been reading those shitty romance novels again, Barry?"

"… no." Barry smiled innocently as he finished wrapping the bandages around Len's torso. "Tight enough? But not too tight?"

"Yeah, that's good. Tape it off," Len agreed, wincing slightly as his bruised ribs protested his movement. "You've got to stop taking book recommendations from Mick," he added. "Mick deliberately looks for the crappiest romance novels he can find."

"Got that from one of Mick's own novels, actually. He's a pretty good author." Barry grinned. "Couldn't put it down."

"Don't encourage him," Len grumbled, though he knew it was already a lost cause. All the Legends bolstered up Mick's writing ego enough as it was, Barry adding in his two cents couldn't possibly make it worse. (Okay, so secretly Len loved Mick's novels, but he had an image to maintain as a great hater of the romance genre. Mick understood this and mocked him mercilessly for it.)

"Have you read it yet? I could read it to you as you lay in repose during your recovery?" Barry's smile was no longer 'innocent.' It had graduated to a full on smirk.

"Oh, god no," Len shook his head and immediately grabbed his shirt. His ribs twinged as he pulled it on, but not so bad that he was rethinking his self-diagnoses of 'bruised, not cracked'. "First, I know you're quoting again because only a poorly written romance novel would use 'lay in repose' to mean anything other than a dead body in a casket. Second, I've already read it, okay? I always read Mick's novels."

"Was the 'lay in repose' thing deliberate on his part, then?" Barry looked genuinely curious now.

"Yeah. He thought it was fucking hilarious and would probably slip by as being run of the mill purple prose." Mick in the middle of his writing process was always entertaining to watch, especially because Mick forgets to hide the fact that he has a Masters in English Literature and has definite opinions on Stephanie Meyers being a hack. (Though he does think her depiction of depression being blank pages with the month written on them to be surprisingly insightful. Mick will only admit that when sufficiently drunk, however.) The looks on the Legends faces when they found out Mick only didn't have a PhD was because he didn't have the patience to go back to college for a third time was kind of hilarious. (The crew finding out that Mick had successfully snowed them into thinking he was dumb muscle and was actually writing truly hilarious romance fiction parodies loosely based off of their adventures was one of the funniest days of Len's life.)

"The sex scenes..." Barry starts to say and, nope, not going there today.

"No. We start talking sex scenes, there'll be an actual sex scene... for us. Which my ribs are not up for right now, Bar."

Barry snickered. "Alright, alright. Come back over here, I need to re-bandage that cut on your arm and actually clean it this time." He eyed Len's shirt. "Would you..."

"The shirt stays on," Len interrupted. "I was serious. No sex."

"Not even a blow job?" Barry asked, eyes trailing lower than the shirt now.

Len would deny it, but he might've whined. Just a little. "Maybe later, after we've both slept. You can't tell me you don't need sleep after a fight like that." He did come back closer to Barry, however, and let the speedster guide him over to the sink where the makeshift bandage from earlier was peeled off and the gash on his arm was carefully cleaned - "that fucking stings" "well, yes, rubbing alcohol will do that, Len" - and bandaged back up with real gauze this time.

"Can I at least kiss you?" Barry asked, batting his eyes teasingly for all that his voice made it clear it was a serious question.

"Yeah, that's fine," Len told him, letting Barry do the work of leaning in. They had to pull away after a moment, when Len's ribs protested against the hand that instinctively slid down his back.

"Sorry," Barry breathed, letting their foreheads touch before backing off entirely. "You're right. I could use some sleep. And in the morning, we are revisiting the question of a blow job."

Len flushed hotly. "You really have a one track mind tonight."

"My boyfriend is hot; touching your body is inspiring." Barry's smile was back to innocent.

Eyes narrowing once more, Len asked, "are you quoting Mick's book again?"

"… no."

* * *

"So I seem to remember you saying something about soulful stares and kissing with passionate abandon the last time we were in this position," Len said, taping up Barry's ribs. They'd be healed soon enough, but better safe than sorry considering Barry's ribs had actually been declared cracked after Len's inspection.

"The fact that doing so would only hurt me in no way diminishes the fact that I would love to be kissed with passionate abandon by you," Barry replied, wincing and inhaling sharply at the pain.

"Sorry," Len murmured, pressing a kiss against Barry's jaw as an additional apology. "Want me to read Mick's book out loud to you to make it better?"

"Ah, see, now I get why having porn read to me by my boyfriend while injured is an unfair tease," Barry was blushing hard now at just the idea of it.

"So that's a 'no' to Mick's book?"

"That's an 'I'm sorry I taunted you last time, I was ridiculously horny and tired and not thinking straight.'"

Len snickered. "You're dating me. I'd hope you're not thinking straight."

"That's an awful pun," Barry giggled and then winced, arm going instinctively to protect his ribs. "Please don't make me laugh right now."

"How about we go netflix and literally chill, not metaphorically chill?"

"Literally chilling is cuddling and metaphorically chilling is sex, right?" Barry blinked when Len raised an eyebrow. "Just making sure, okay?"

"Yes, Barry," Len rolled his eyes. "Netflix and chill only means sex when its a metaphor."

"I want to rewatch the Good Place, then."

"I'm good with that."

"We can do the passionate abandon thing in an hour or two, though. Just so you know." Barry grinned impishly and Len just laughed.


End file.
